


A Carnal Farewell

by Empy (Empyreus)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Biting, Community: lotr_sesa, Desire, Established Relationship, Fingerfucking, Frottage, Goodbyes, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Lust, M/M, Masturbation, Quiet Sex, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Silence, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-26
Updated: 2003-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-06 17:26:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3142631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empyreus/pseuds/Empy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I would not have you leave for battle without saying farewell first."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Carnal Farewell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shirasade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirasade/gifts).



> Movieverse.
> 
> Written for [](http://shirasade.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://shirasade.livejournal.com/)**shirasade** , for the LotR FPS SeSa challenge.

The wide halls of Meduseld were silent as a tomb, and Éomer found the echo of his own footsteps almost unbearably loud. He feared that at each corner, Wormtongue would be waiting, eager to deliver a barb about Éomer's skulking in the halls after hours. It would mean a change of route, and another answer delivered from between gritted teeth. His patience had long since waned, and at times he wished nothing more than to close his hands around the weak neck and wring the life out of the insidious counsellor.

Reaching the door he was looking for uninterrupted, he nonetheless drew a deep breath before opening it. Who knew what tricks the Worm could think of?

"Éomer," the prince said, looking up from the scroll he was holding. "I began to worry you would not come."

"I promised this," he replied. "I would not have you leave for battle without saying farewell first." He took in the sight of the young prince sitting half-dressed at his desk, and smiled. All felt well to him, even if he wished deep down that morning would not come.

"You come to delay my misery," Théodred smiled as he rose, carefully rolling up the scroll and placing it to the side. He walked over to Éomer, wrapping his arms around the older man's neck in an easy embrace. Shifting, he picked at the fastenings of Éomer's shirt, opening the lacings easily, and slid his hand in to stroke the exposed skin. Éomer relaxed in the hold, finally leaning down to capture the prince's mouth in a tender kiss. He could taste mead on Théodred's lips, the flavour honeyed and rich.

"Éowyn sends her warmest regards," Éomer said, feeling a tinge of guilt at the mention of his sister. Was she not more suited for the prince than he was?

"Give her my thanks," Théodred said.

"She is a good match for you," Éomer said, the words coming unbidden. The prince looked taken aback for a moment.

"She is truly fair, and I love her dearly," he said, nodding. "Yet what if I crave something wilder this night?" There was heat in the voice. "If I wish to ride a bucking stallion?" he asked, his mouth hot on Éomer's neck. Théodred had shrugged his own shirt off, and the simple feel of skin on skin made Éomer suppress a lustful shiver.

"Then you must snare one." He threaded his fingers into Théodred's long hair, holding tightly, then tugged gently upward.

"I already have. Now remains to see how he will throw me," Théodred breathed.

Éomer let himself be walked backwards and finally pinned to the bed, and he gave a slow smile as Théodred moved to straddle him. The younger man's skin was soft under his hands, but Éomer could feel the play of the strong muscles. No boy, this, but a man to ride him until he was breathless.

"What is it that puts so lustful a smile on your face?" Théodred asked as he bent close, his lips touching the skin of Éomer's ear. "What wicked things have you thought out for me?"

Skimming his hand up Théodred's chest, Éomer shifted minutely. "What would you have me do?" he asked in return, recognizing the game. The prince leaned into the touch, nuzzling his face to Éomer's hand as it gripped his neck.

"Strip," he said simply. Éomer hardly needed to be told twice, and he cursed his fumbly fingers as they would not cooperate. The prince sat back, nimbly divesting himself of what little clothing he still had on, then lunged at Éomer, pinning him to the bed again.

Théodred's head snapped back abruptly as Éomer wrapped his fingers around the prince's cock, and a long and low moan escaped him.

"We need something slick," Éomer whispered into Théodred's ear, nuzzling the long neck. "Else I will hurt you."

Disentangling himself from Éomer's hold, Théodred swung his legs over the edge of the bed and quickly crossed the floor to his writing desk. Tilting his head a fraction, he regarded the inkhorns and finally selected one. As he caught Éomer's frown, he gave a sly smile.

"It is not ink, Éomer. The ruse serves well if even you are fooled by it."

Taking the horn, Éomer poured a dollop of the thick oil into his palm, slicking his fingers with it. "Lie back," he urged, brushing the back of his hand over Théodred's chest.

The younger man complied, settling to lie comfortably on the pelts that were spread over the wide bed. His long legs hung half off the bed, the high edge in the fold of the knee.

Éomer gave a wide smile, sliding his oil-slicked fingers between Théodred's legs, stroking lightly. Théodred spread his legs, canting his head back as he did so, and his mouth opened in a silent moan. Sliding his hand up a strong calf, Éomer took a hold of Théodred's leg, lifting it until the younger man's ankle rested on Éomer's shoulder. He slid his oiled fingers around the shaft of Théodred's cock, drawing his thumb down the ridge on the underside. "Relax," he said, more out of rote than out of need to instruct, as he pushed the first joint of his finger past the tightly clenched ring of muscle.

As Éomer pushed deeper, his movements slow at first, the prince grasped at the coverlets, bunching the thick fabric. "More," he mouthed, and Éomer added a finger to the first, still taking care to be gentle. Each moan from Théodred sang in his blood, and he shifted where he stood, suddenly mindful of how uncomfortable his breeches were.

"I have not denied you your pleasure, Éomer," Théodred said, his voice ragged. He reached down, grasping Éomer's wrist. "Touch yourself." As Éomer hesitated slightly, the younger man tightened his hold minutely. " I wish it, and I wish to see you touch yourself as you would touch me" he added.

Éomer felt a slow wave of heat travel through him, finally settling in his groin. Bold words from the prince, and he knew he was helpless to resist the request, especially as it was spoken with so tempting a voice. He had never been able to deny Théodred, least of all in matters like these. Straightening up, he let his still-slick fingers glide up the inside of Théodred's thigh before tentatively stroking his hand down his own chest.

"Go on," Théodred urged. "You should not be shy." He sat up, leaning his weight back on his elbows. His legs were still lasciviously spread, and he licked his lips as he regarded Éomer. Emboldened, Éomer grasped his own cock, feeling the already turgid flesh swell further.

Éomer bent his head, failing to suppress a long gasp as he stroked himself harder. It was stoking the fire in his veins, and if he did not slow down, he would not last long. "I cannot go on," he gritted out. "I--" he began, then abandoned the statement in favour of a kiss. Théodred gave an appreciative murmur as Éomer pressed close, and he parted his legs willingly. "I have seen enough," Théodred said, his lips brushing the skin of Éomer's ear, "and I am impatient."

The flippant statement brought a wide smile to Éomer's lips, and he ground up against the prince. Their cocks brushed, sliding against each other in the narrow space between the bodies. Théodred's hands were splayed over Éomer's back, holding him close, and his ankles were crossed behind Éomer's hips.

Fumbling for the vial of oil lost somewhere in the folds of the sheets, Éomer finally closed his fingers around it. Turning and disengaging the tight hold, he pinned Théodred under him.

"Impatient indeed? How impatient?" he asked, punctuating the questions with deep kisses. Théodred's tongued twined sweetly with his, and he gave a groan low in his throat. The younger man took this as encouragement, and he cleverly moved, finally straddling Éomer, splaying his strong legs on either side of Éomer's hips.

"Look at yourself," Éomer smiled, delighting in the sensation of Théodred's sweat-slick skin on his own. "Look at how aroused you are, my prince." He was rewarded with a short moan from Théodred, and he tightened his grip on the younger man's thighs.

"You flatter me," Théodred laughed, half breathless, his fingers tracing a spiral around Éomer's nipple, finally pinching the rosy nub. He shifted his hips, arching his back slightly as he did so, and Éomer clenched his fingers hard. In this state, he would not last long. He gently pushed Théodred to the side until the younger man tumbled to lie flat on his back.

"Roll over," Éomer breathed. "Onto your belly."

Théodred shook his head in negation. "I want to see your face, Éomer," he said, his voice simmering with want.

Éomer closed his eyes briefly. "Later," he promised. "Please let me have this. I will make it worth your while," he said, lowering his voice slightly, sending it into velvet. Théodred smiled and nodded, obediently turning to lie prone. He rested his head on his crossed arms, regarding Éomer from beneath lowered lashes, and gave a little sigh as he watched Éomer stroke the oil onto his erect sex.

Théodred spread his legs willingly as Éomer placed his palms on the backs of the prince's thighs. The silken heat as he thrust in was overwhelming, a fire burning within, and he bit at Théodred's shoulder, unnecessarily harsh in his haste.

"Harder," Théodred breathed, twisting and sprawling on the wide bed. He heaved himself up on his hands and knees, the jolting movement forcing Éomer to bite his tongue to keep from groaning aloud. Théodred's fingers scrabbled over the intricately wrought horseheads on the bedposts as he sought to grip them.

"I would hurt you," Éomer said, his voice strangled as he sought to slow down. His next words died in his throat as Théodred pushed back. The sensation was strong enough to make him see white behind his closed eyelids, and he tightened his grip on the younger man's sides, digging his short nails into the flesh. Théodred gasped in protest, then splayed his legs further.

"I am sturdier than you think," he said, voice a hiss and a croak, the words falling unevenly. "Please," he pleaded more than commanded. "I ask for it, Éomer."

The heat was white-hot it seemed, scalding him from within. His heart was galloping in his chest, far faster than was its wont even in these matters.

"Be silent," he whispered against the heated skin of Théodred's nape. "You must be silent, lest they hear us."

There was no answer in words, only a slow nod of the sweaty head. As Éomer thrust in deeper, his mind already swimming with the burn of lust, Théodred gave a muffled curse, biting down on the sound before it became too loud.

"Yes," the prince whispered. "Yes, like that."

The furs slid under his knees, a living thing in itself, and he found his thrusts growing erratic. His hair was slicked to his forehead, the long strands obscuring his field of vision, and he impatiently tossed his head. The pace quickened, and he was lost in sensation already, feeling nothing but the furnace heat of Théodred's skin under his hands and the sweet, wild yield of the tight body under him.

Théodred was trembling under him, his arms nearly giving out, and as Éomer thrust in deep a final time, the prince gave a short cry. His body tensed, and he flung his head back, staring unseeing at the ceiling. Éomer himself saw only white light behind his closed eyelids as his world flew apart from the sheer force of the climax.

Both men collapsed onto the bed, wearied beyond belief. Théodred gave a wince that soon turned into a smile. "I think this sheet must be counted a lost cause," he said, turning in the embrace. Éomer could see the faint pearly trails of Théodred's seed on the paler skin of the prince's stomach, and he bent his head to lap at it. Théodred gave a little sound of surprised alarm, then lightly rested his hand atop Éomer's head for a moment.

"You are truly fair as a king," Éomer said, lifting his head and leaning in to nuzzle at Théodred's bare neck.

He could feel the downy hairs under his lips, and this close he could sense the faint scent of leather and hay, and most of all the subtle musk that was Théodred's alone. A scent like the scent of the wind, the wild and howling wind that stalked over the plains.

"Have you fallen asleep?" Théodred laughed, the sound warm and rich so close to the source. "You are indeed old, Éomer, if it takes this little to wear you out."

In response, he bit down, a gentle bite that nonetheless left a mark. "I see it is the impatience of youth at play here," he growled. "Prince or not, you clearly need to be taught some manners."

Théodred laughed anew, the sound soft in the darkened room. There was a flicker from the candles near the bed, a witness to the shifting airs caused by the couple moving. "Bold words, Éomer." He sat up, the furs and bed sheets slipping to bare his naked chest. "And you think you are the one to tell me how to behave, commander?" The title was a tease, the last trill faded into an exhalation.

"It has worked so far, has it not?" Éomer retorted, stretching out where he lay. He could allow himself this boldness now, a contrast to all the times he suppressed any wayward glances during the day or in the presence of the hateful Wormtongue.

It was heady poison, all of it, not in the least in these short hours before battle. He stroked wide strands of hair out of Théodred's face before kissing him deeply, squeezing his own eyes closed.

A kiss to ward off death and destruction.

"Sleep now, Théodred. Morning is yet far away."


End file.
